21 Dreams
by E Salvatore
Summary: Twenty-one nights of a stranger who isn't quite a stranger. Twenty-one dreams she can't seem to remember fully no matter how hard she tries. Twenty-one little ficlets of Peter and Olivia because... these are her dreams. Of him. Post 4x03.
1. Chapter 1

**21 DREAMS**

**Summary : Twenty-one nights of a stranger who isn't quite a stranger. Twenty-one dreams she can't seem to remember fully no matter how hard she tries. Twenty-one little ficlets of Peter and Olivia because... these are her dreams. Of him.**

**Disclaimer : Yeah, it took me three seasons to finally come up with a Fringe fanfiction because I've been busy running and owning the show. NOT.**

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><p><strong>21 Dreams<strong>

**One : A Familiar Stranger**

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><p>"'<em>Livia…"<em>

"'_Livia…"_

"_Olivia!"_

_She doesn't know where she is, or even _when _she is, a question she's come to contemplate many times in the past three years of working with Walter Bishop. _

_She has had many dreams in her thirty-odd years, and just as many nightmares, and the thing about them was that they tended to be a bit… repetitive. So this new dream with this new field and this new voice is almost too much for her, especially after such a long day. _

_Peter Bishop knows it's been a long day for Olivia, which is precisely why he's been in her head all day long. He'd contemplated going to Walter for help, but he had worried over the possibility of misleading Walter into believing that he was going insane again, and so he had stuck with his first choice – Olivia. Her mind proved to be much stronger than the random few he had experimented on, and so Peter had developed a plan and had waited a long time for this day._

_Olivia had gone for at least 36 straight hours without sleep before he had attempted contact. A whispered name here, a 'you know me' there, and he was set. All that he needed was for her to fall asleep and dream and now here they are._

"_Olivia."_

"_Stay there; don't move."_

_Her voice is hard and cold as her hands automatically move for her gun – her non-existent gun because it simply does not exist, not here; not in this calm night where the curious scent of white tulips sweeten the air._

_He is hurt by her words, her tone, and the implications of it all – she does not remember him. Even in this dreamland where his wildest desires had come true as a boy, the one thing he wants more than anything in the world does not come true and Olivia continues to pin him down with a cold and suspicious glare, mild panic in her eyes as she realizes that not only is her gun gone, but her holster, her suit – her entire self. _

_She is ethereal in white, the gentle breeze picking up a few strands of her light hair to play with. Even without her memories she is more like his Olivia than this new Peter-less Olivia he has observed for the past few weeks and he is glad, because it's the little things that make all the difference._

_A second look and her glare is gone. He dares to step forward, one step, and then another, and another; finally, he is hovering just outside of her personal space and she is discomforted, at the very least, by this strange calm that seems to connect them._

_It is a while before she can speak the words he is hoping she will not, and yet he admits defeat the moment her lips part to shape the words._

"_Who are you?"_

_A moment; then two. Olivia is impatient and she wants answers, because it is not every night that she has a new dream, and it is certainly not every night that a stranger – a figment of her imagination, most likely – co-stars in it. In her three years at Fringe Division she has come across some strange things, and she's dreamed of a suspect once or twice, though most of them proved to be more than human and so she had never wondered about her… ability._

_But here he is, this perfect stranger who has such blue eyes and such brown hair and everything is heightened, even this strange sense of familiarity she cannot even begin to understand._

_And then he is gone._

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><p><strong>My first Fringe fic!<strong>

**I am **_**so **_**excited yet uncertain and I hope this will be well received. I have no time at all for anything but this idea would not leave me alone ever since Olivia's confession of her dreams last week and now here I am, a crazy woman on a crazy mission to write twenty-one dreams in twenty-four (give or take) hours before the next episode airs and this defies canon.**

**There will be twenty-one chapters, little ficlets in their own, each under a thousand words. I hope to gradually built up the word count and maybe slip in a few waking moments, but for now I'm going to go with three weeks' worth of dreams – twenty-one nights of Peter.**

**Wish me luck, fellow Fringe-fans, as I embark on this crazed and doomed mission.**

**A review might soothe my insanity, and I am never too busy for a PM. Tweets and e-mails are much appreciated and those who read my homepage make me feel like a rock-star who constantly updates her adoring fans. (Yes, that is a good thing.)**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**21 Dreams**

**Two : A Memory Revisited**

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><p>"<em>Olivia…"<em>

_It is her name but it isn't, because it is the soft sigh of a breeze and the song of the night and a word, all inexplicably rolled into one. _

_She hopes to keep her eyes focused on this sole tulip – one that grows a slight distance apart from its family – in her quest to preserve her peace and alone-ness. Olivia is not ready for this – this new dream with a new man and new feelings she hasn't felt since… ever._

_Alas._

_It isn't her dream; she had figured this out earlier today, after hours of contemplation. It isn't her dream and she isn't the one calling the shots, hence the movement-restricting white dress, which she deems familiar but chalks it up to her previous dream – her first dream._

_He appears to materialize from a circle of white tulips but she knows better – he had simply been sitting low and hiding amongst the tall blooms. It is a childhood trick of hers and she wonders again at the sense of deja-vu she can't quite push out of her mind._

"_Olivia."_

_This time, it is definitely a word – a word sighed so softly like the breeze, but a word nonetheless – and it would be reckless to ignore this strange man who keeps her nights restless and haunts her by day, leaving in her hands a single white tulip as the dawn slowly reaches for her._

_She has a feeling that this lone tulip will be the one she finds in her hands when she wakes up, provided she does wake up. She does not know this man… yet she does, and this scares her more than it should, leaving her brain to run wild and contemplate worst-case scenarios in which she ends up murdered._

_Peter knows exactly what she's thinking as the corner of his lips quirk up in that way he has of half-smirking, half-smiling. It is a sight so familiar that a light glint passes through Olivia's eyes and his smirk-smile turns into a full, genuine smile, fueled by hope._

"'_Livia, please. You have to remember me."_

"_I don't."_

"_But you do. Think."_

_His desperation materializes in the form of a single hand reaching out between them to bridge the gap and she stumbles a half-step behind, wiping the smile off his face. He isn't familiar with the way this – whatever it is – works yet but he knows that this cannot be good and please, _please_, can someone please make Olivia remember him?_

_He's cheating; he had given up his life for hers. He isn't entitled to this; isn't allowed these stolen moments of desperation and loneliness with her as they come together yet remain apart._

_But those who hold the key to his deal know all and see all, and maybe this is his punishment, dutifully doled out by those bound to his deal – the sinking sensation in his gut every single time he meets her eyes and she doesn't see him or doesn't recognize him. Every little pang to his chest. Every last stab to his heart._

_She watches curiously as this man – the man she knows yet doesn't – is lost in thought. His eyes… his eyes are so familiar, and her photographic memory proves handy once more as she suspiciously connects the dots – she's seen a picture of Walter's deceased son once, and he had the exact same eyes. Even the hair…_

_But something prevents her from connecting the last dot. A deal has been made and there are laws to be upheld._

"_Please, Olivia, you have to remember me."_

"_Who are you?" She asks again. She just needs a name – a name she can place. She's an agent; she's good at this kind of things, but she's no good at riddles, not when she's faced a whole day's worth of them. This is her time; her time to rest up and get ready for the insanities of tomorrow and yet she is faced with this not-stranger whose name she doesn't know in this not-field (because these aren't wild tulips, are they?), a place she vaguely remembers._

"_I-" His blue eyes – the ones that are so familiar to her – widen as he realizes that he is physically incapable of sharing his name. Such a simple word – two syllables she has spoken daily for the last three years; sometimes as a laugh, sometimes an antagonized scream, other times a soft sigh as she let down her walls and slowly drifted to sleep in his arms, putting so much faith in him to guide her through another night._

"_I can't tell you."_

_Any other person and she would have ripped them a new one because she really, _really_ doesn't have time for this but his eyes are so wide and innocent and scared and she knows, she just knows that he wants to __tell her._

"_C'mon, 'Livia. You have to remember."_

"_Why would I remember your name?" She is puzzled and he savors the moment, just two tiny seconds as that familiar crease between her eyes appears – he has missed sparking her curiosity, the way he used to all the time with the most random bits of trivia._

"_Think, 'Livia… We met here. Come _on_." He is begging and pleading because this isn't about him not-existing and being in limbo – that part he can handle – but__ this is him being separated from her and her holding all of the power to bring them back together._

"_Think, Olivia, think."_

_White tulips and the full moon fill her mind but she can't place it, she just can't. A desperate attempt has him reaching out for physical connection but the moon is slowly fading._

"'_Livia-"_

_And then she is wrenched away, and it causes an ache so deep she cannot even begin to comprehend it, not that she wants to._

_Even an impossible tulip in the glaring morning sun can't possibly hurt as much as this._

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><p><strong>I am doing this with zero amount of feedback as I'm working on completing at least three dreams before posting, so please keep that in mind.<strong>

**Also keep in mind that reviews are love, and all we need is love, ain't that right? A short note via PM, tweet or e-mail is always appreciated and if you have far too much time on your hands, there's always my homepage of incessant and crazy ramblings.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**21 Dreams**

**Three : If I Touch You Like This…**

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><p><em>The third night and she has two tulips sitting in a vase next to her bed, ready for a third one. These dreams aren't going anywhere and she wouldn't have it any other way, because Olivia Dunham is curious and nothing is going to keep her from her answers, even if it's the last mystery she'll solve.<em>

_Olivia Dunham has denied many things in her life, and fake ignorance is an old comrade. But these dreams that leave her with lingering memories and impossible tulips do nothing to help her case and so she surrenders, finally working up the courage to explore._

_He isn't here yet, and she doesn't know if this is good or bad because if there's one thing she hates more than a mystery, it's not Walter's crazy tendency to experiment on her, but being all alone in the world._

_The moon remains impossibly round – she's no Einstein but a lifetime's worth of common sense and three years of reading up on advanced sciences to keep up with Walter tell her this shouldn't be; the moon is probably just really bright, causing it to seem round, she rationalizes._

_She is prepared to round the field again when she hears footsteps. They're quick and urgent, but not threatening; simply eager and impatient. For some reason she can't possibly fathom she sits down amidst the tulips and waits for him._

"_Olivia."_

_He's out of breath and this is another mystery to her because her dreams aren't usually this well-detailed, but then again, she tells herself, this isn't her dream. It's his and she's just along for the ride. Or so she tells herself._

"_Hi."_

_It's a tentative olive branch of sorts and Peter can feel the corners of his mouth turn into a smile. He had been so worried; so scared of last night being the last of his stolen communication. He'd been in limbo for most of today, but he knows _they _aren't happy and they're trying to get rid of him._

_Peter knows now what he didn't the night before, and the night before that: Olivia's memories of them are there – she just needs to find some way to unlock them. Traces of him, they had called it. He knows these are traces of _them_, a lifetime together, and he knows she can do it. But for now all that he can focus on is her quiet greeting and the tentative smile that plays on her face._

"_Hi, 'Livia." He smiles sitting down just a few feet apart from her, a small distance he allows her to keep. No point in trying to rush Olivia; it still hurts that he knows all of these little things and she doesn't, not at all._

"_Gonna tell me your name tonight?" Olivia asks lightly, but there is an underlying tone of mild irritation and it hits him hard because Olivia can't be irritated by him. She has to stay; has to remember._

"_You know I want to, 'Liv."_

_A moment, and then a nod._

"_I know." _

_It is all the concession he needs for now; for Olivia to know that he is helpless. A small shuffle and he is slightly closer._

"_Why are we here?" It's the next question on her list and for a small moment he's afraid to answer; afraid of finding more limitations where there were none. But he braves the fear and forms an answer, pleased when it comes out right._

"_Because we're always here. We've always been here. Olivia, you have to remember us."_

_He can see her stiffen for a moment, as if the 'us' he speaks of represents him and more strangers who will appear in her dreams. It takes exactly 4 seconds for her to comprehend that 'us' means the two of them and Peter can spot the slow loosening of her muscles as she lets down her guard again; this place had a way of making you do that, and Peter intends to work this to his advantage._

"_Please, 'Livia," He moves closer. "We had a lifetime." Bile rises to his throat as his lifetime flashes by his eyes, ending with Olivia's funeral. The funeral, he reminds himself, that he has prevented; erased. But at what price? The Walter of 15 years in the future had not known, and Peter has a feeling that he's just beginning to find out._

_Not existing is a painful thing when the ones you love move on with their lives, not knowing that you're by their side the whole time._

"_Why can't I remember?" Her eyes are desperate and Peter knows how she feels – violated, trespassed; scared. It is this last emotion that sets everything in motion and he can see the sudden alarm in her eyes._

_Slowly, tentatively, she raises her hand._

"_You glimmer." She blinks in astonishment, her hand frozen somewhere in between them, unsure of how to proceed._

_He knows this is it. This is his window of opportunity. Olivia must be convinced to come back before she wakes up or he risks the end of it all; of these dreams._

"_Olivia," He says softly, trying to keep her calm. Slowly, he reaches for her hand; his movements are painfully slow and maybe it is just her impatience, or maybe it is the way this is meant to happen, but she moves and her hand frames one side of his face._

_And she remembers._

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><p><strong>Chapter title partly inspired by Meatloaf's <em>'It's All Coming Back To Me Now'<em> which is one of my all-time favs. I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone in advance for (possibly) reading and reviewing, even though that's a tad presumptuous seeing as how I have no idea what kind of feedback I'll be getting on this.**

**Remember – reviews, PMs, tweets, e-mails and hits to my homepage are all very much welcomed. I like making friends in the fandom; it's the only place where people understand my constant need to hole up and write, and also check my review counts obsessively.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**21 Dreams**

**Four : These Traces That Bleed Through**

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><p>"<em>You're Walter's son."<em>

_She has waited a whole day to say these words and now that she does, the accusation she meant to infuse these words with is gone, leaving behind plain old curiosity and perhaps a small sense of recognition._

"_You remember me."_

_His smile is so open and genuine and just for a moment, one single moment, she wishes that she does, because he's painting a beautiful picture of them and she wants to see it; see what's strong enough to make someone come back from an unknown existence just for the one person they love._

"_No. I remember that you're Walter's son, and you trick people for a living and I was supposed to meet you after finding out these facts."_

_He's about to add in a few other facts and hopefully jog her memory, but Olivia isn't done yet._

"_But it's not possible because Walter's son died, and I would know because this fact caused me a great deal of inconvenience and paperwork because he didn't have a legal guardian. Because Walter was released to my custody too late, thanks to all of the legal issues, and eventually John died anyway. But Broyles managed to keep Walter and we've been in Fringe Division ever since."_

_She is clearly reciting her version of the past three years to convince him, and not herself. She doesn't need convincing; she _knows _this is how things happened. She knows everything and she remembers everything but why isn't she sure? Why can't she speak with conviction? Why does her voice break on all the wrong words?_

_Why does she remember?_

_Why doesn't she remember?_

_Olivia hates this; hates this more than anything because she has never doubted herself and she isn't about to start now. She has a photographic memory; that alone should be enough to convince herself. But why isn't it enough? Why does she see blue eyes and shared laughs and private secrets? Why does she see wake-up calls filled with smiles and coffee just the way she takes it? Why does she see this not-quite stranger who is suddenly in the background of every single memory?_

"_Why can't I remember?"_

_The words escape her carefully guarded lips and Peter feels so bad; so bad for making her second-guess herself. Olivia might think she's going nuts but how in the world is he going to make her remember? He had been so convinced that just that simple touch of last night would have been enough and yet it isn't._

_Traces of him; that's what she has. Bloody traces that leave just enough room for more desperation and pain and self-doubt. Olivia knows him – she knows them – but it is horrible to admit to himself that even this field, even this night that is purely his and hers, is controlled and limited by the boundaries set in place to make him keep to his end of the deal._

_And the worst part is that there had been no deal. Peter has been alone for so long, with no company but Walter, and even then it's not exactly teatime, but more of a cheap horror movie. He hates haunting Walter, and he hates making Liv feel bad, but damn it, he needs them to remember because this is not a life – Olivia has no life. She's worse than she was three years ago and it causes him physical pain to see her empty life._

"_You'll remember, sweetheart. You will. The memories are there." The familiar term of endearment escapes him before he has a chance to catch himself and just like three years ago, her eyes flash. But this isn't a threatening, 'call-me-sweetheart-one-more-time' flash; this is a 'please, help me remember' flash and her eyes are dangerously close to shedding tears._

_He wants to hold her so badly but he keeps his distance simply because Olivia can't handle a stranger holding her, not right now. And it hurts to admit that he's nothing more than a stranger to her when he knows that she wants this – them – just as much as he does. No one truly relishes being lonely, and even Olivia knows she can't lie to herself anymore._

"'_Livia, please." He needs her to try, just one more time. "Please remember, Olivia. You know we were here. You know what happened. You know me."_

"_Why do you keep saying that?" She is frustrated but he can't help it, not anymore. Olivia needs to remember, not just for his sake but for her own, because she wants this and she can make it happen._

"_Because it's true. We were kids, don't you remember? Come on."_

_She wants to remember; she really does, more than anything. But her brain is just one big mess of memories and not-memories and half-truths and she just can't._

"_I can't. I want to, but I can't." She is crying, not with her eyes but with her voice, and Peter's heart breaks all over again. _

_And then she's in his arms and hot tears warm his non-existent body as he just holds her in this dream._

_She wakes up with a single teardrop on her perfect tulip._

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><p><strong>Fourth dream and we've still got time. I think this might actually happen. Thank you guys so much for all the reviews and alerts, and please, keep them coming. You can also contact me via PM, tweet or e-mail, and I take questions on my homepage.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**21 Dreams**

**Five : What's In A Name?**

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><p><em>He's waiting for her and she doesn't even hesitate this time because what's the point? She's never going to really have him; never going to wake up to him, so she might as well fill all of her nights with this man who is Walter's son and dead and quite possibly the love of her life because great love is never one-sided and this is great love at its best.<em>

"_Olivia."_

_Her name fills their conversation and their touches because it's the only one they have, between the two of them. She rests so casually against his chest, a simple act she has never experienced in her waking moments, simply because he's never there and this is something that is theirs._

_She wants so badly to remember him and it plagues their silent peace as the moon remains frozen, eternally lovely and full. She wants to know every word she's said to this man; every secret they've traded in the hushed silence of the night. She has done everything for him – she knows it even if she doesn't know anything else. _

"_You crossed worlds for me, actually." He admits casually with a smile and she doesn't doubt this. She would have done anything for him, simply because he's doing everything for her, by existing while not-existing in this place that's somehow isolated from all of the horrors of the world._

"_How is this even possible?"_

_She asks this question without consciously deciding to and immediately wants to take it back because in the past three years she has suspended her disbelief to a point where it shouldn't even exist anymore, and besides, she doesn't want to risk losing this by questioning it._

_For the first time in her life Olivia's heart is complete and she knows instinctively that his absence has been the hole in it all along and she doesn't know how she ever lived with that gaping wound. But her days hurt more than they ever have because they serve as a constant reminder that no matter what, he is hers only in the darkness, and they might never have what others have, even if they are special in their own way._

"_Because it is," He answers simply and she knows that he can't say anything else._

_For Peter, he keeps to the simple words and short answers because if he can say what he wants to, then he can pretend that this is normal; that everything is back to how it used to be and maybe they're just in Jacksonville, just the two of them, getting away from it all._

_He has a rough idea of his boundaries – anything from that potential future is off-limits – and he tries to keep within them even if he's never been one for the rules before. Olivia's eyes flash every time he doesn't offer to elaborate and he knows that she knows that this isn't what he wants._

_The way she lets him hold her puts a permanent smile on his face and when he senses, in that way that only a non-existent person can sense, that this dream is coming to an end, he feels like a teenage boy all over again, wondering, at the end of the first date, if he should close the distance._

_But Peter isn't a teenage boy and Olivia isn't a teenage girl and so he slowly pulls her up so that they face each other and the moonlight illuminates both of their features. Her eyes tell him that she knows what is about to happen and just like that, it's not a first kiss or a new kiss; it's another kiss among hundreds and why was he ever nervous about this?_

_He's taller than her but as he leans in to close the gap, they come closer and closer until they are almost equals and in that one glorious moment before it happens, they can both pretend that everything is as it was and life is simpler, much simpler than it is now._

_His lips press against hers and everything is a well-memorized dance as her fingers reach up to rest on his neck and his hands grip her waist securely. The way they move is so gentle that she feels her heart breaking, just a little bit, because nothing will be the same after this kiss._

_It lasts for eternity and a second, and it's entirely too short because suddenly their foreheads are pressed against each other and their lips are just slightly apart, enough to breathe the same air and yet not touch._

_He murmurs her name because that is how the dance goes, not because he expects anything but suddenly her hands tighten their hold on him and her eyes are bright and his heart swells._

"_Peter."_

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><p>When she wakes up there's another tulip in her hands and the rest remain impossibly perfect, but Olivia Dunham is crying because her heart aches for what she does not know.<p>

She doesn't remember her dreams after that, only blue eyes and brown hair and a warm smile.

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><p><strong>So… Olivia remembers Peter but she doesn't. And yes, he's still haunting Walter by day but these are their moments and so I'm not going to touch on that. Remember – any sort of feedback can put a smile on my face and those are priceless.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**21 Dreams**

**Six : The Harsh Glare Of Daylight**

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><p>"<em>Peter!"<em>

_She loves how easily it falls from her lips; how familiar those two syllables are. The memories of her calling out to him every single day have returned to her mind now and she pushes out the fact that her conscious self has no recollection at all of this new-found knowledge; no memories of Peter to tide her through her existence without him._

_It hurts so much, knowing that she will only ever have Peter in the darkness, and Olivia has never wanted something as she does right now : for Peter to come back. She doesn't care how it works – Gene could be the key to the riddle and she wouldn't even laugh, because that is how much she wants Peter back._

"'_Livia!"_

_He's here and she can feel her smile; a smile so genuine it'll never hurt. Besides, Olivia has never really be one to lap up attention and at least now it won't just be her name filling up the silence; she is determined to use his name as much as possible now that she remembers it and all of the precious moments it signifies._

_The moon remains impossibly full as they lie down on their backs, limbs snaked together. She remembers him; God, she does. But it is only in the darkness that his name and their story comes to her and she really, really doesn't know what she'll do in the real world without him by her side. The coming dawn has never been such a terrifying prospect._

"_I don't remember you." She isn't talking about it in a general sense, but he doesn't need an explanation to know how her mind works._

"_I know." He murmurs quietly, working to keep his tone light; optimistic. "It's okay, 'Livia. You remember me now. I can't honestly say that I'm not disappointed, but this-" He casually waves a hand across their joined bodies to illustrate his point, "- is so much more than I thought I would ever get with you again."_

_The fact that these dreams mean so much to both of them only serves to highlight their miserable situation, but Olivia is still unclear of how it works and quite honestly, a little in awe at it all. "I can't believe I'm dreaming about you," She smiles. _

"_Hey, I can think of worse things…" He defends himself, a smirk growing on his face. She doesn't come up with a reply to his teasing banter; not here, not when their time together is limited and the impossibly round moon seems to grow darker, further, by the second. Time has never been so precious._

"_Peter," She thinks she will never take that name for granted again. "Peter, we need to figure this out. You need to come back."_

"_I know, sweetheart. We'll try." He comforts her, but even she knows there's a reason he isn't promising her anything – because he can't make any assurances._

"_I want you back, Peter." She does, and it means so much because there was a time that she didn't, a dark memory that hides in the joy of the others. She thinks of the words she had spoken to get him back a year ago. They don't apply anymore. He doesn't just belong with her. "We belong together."_

"_I know, 'Livia. We'll try." He says again, and it hurts that he can't promise her anything; can't promise her the lifetime they had talked about in such detail, in the dead of the night when they could release murmured dreams into the darkness and not see if they would float or sink. _

"_But not tonight."_

_If there's one thing Peter had regretted those first few days of not-existing, it had everything to do with Olivia. Not making her smile enough. Not making her laugh every day. Not taking her dancing._

_So he does all three._

_He pulls her up and they sway to the breeze in their bare feet, and she smiles at the absurdity of it all and laughs when he cracks jokes and Peter knows he'll never forget this, not even if he eventually moves on from this phase of non-existence and becomes nothing more than a name, long forgotton. He knows now that there has to be some sort of consciousness that remains after death because these words and night between him and Olivia are too perfect to not exist forever._

_The tulips seem brighter than ever and Olivia's white dress takes on an almost-reflective quality, and for the first time in their story they can tell each other they're glimmering and it's not a bad thing. No one is scared anymore._

_They wish the sun would never come up._

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><p>Olivia wakes with a start and a gasp and a strangled choke.<p>

Another tulip rests in her hands but she's not bothered by it; puzzled, instead, by the empty darkness of the past six hours.

The daylight streams in and somehow highlights the ache in her heart as it provides a glaring contrast to the darkness and the field she misses so desperately, along with those entrancing blue eyes.

Olivia Dunham thinks she is the loneliest person in both worlds.

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><p><strong>Dream six, and we've got another twelve hours (or less) to go. Yikes! Please, please, please, someone give me the strength and inspiration to finish this. Reviews, PMs, e-mails and tweets can be inspiring, by the way. Hits on my homepage act as a huge confidence booster.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**21 Dreams**

**Seven : The War Between Me And Myself**

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><p>"<em>Olivia! Thank God you're alright."<em>

_It's been hours and hours and Peter has been worried sick. Olivia doesn't have the best of sleeping habits but he knows she's been sleeping regularly for the past six nights thanks to her eagerness to return; something her conscious self does not understand._

"_I can't – Peter, I couldn't – Oh God, I'm scared."_

_She makes no sense and she's shivering and talking incoherently and for one horrible second which seems to last an hour he sees the shivering form he's saved countless times from rusty tanks and alternate universes. He gathers her into his arms and slowly soothes her with murmured reassurances and whispered endearments. Hushed questions are asked and he waits with the patience of a saint for her to calm down._

"_C'mere, 'Livia." He pulls her down to the ground and lets her rest against him, holding her in silence. It takes a while and he knows they're wasting precious time but he waits for her as he always will._

"_I… I didn't want to sleep."_

_It's fairly amusing, the way she talks about herself as if there are two of her. The one who remembers Peter and the one who doesn't. But this isn't time for being amused and he grows still at her words._

"_I can't remember anymore, Peter. When I wake up all I know is I'm lonely, so lonely and then today I decided I'd rather forgo sleep instead of waking up lonely every morning."_

"_It's alright, Olivia. You got here anyway." He chooses to focus on being upbeat and beats down the ache he has in his entire being, knowing exactly how Olivia feels and knowing that he's why she feels that way. He hates it when Olivia feels lonely – it is the worst thing he's ever seen, and the most painful._

"_With two hours to spare." She tacks on, obviously not happy. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, Peter. I could roll down the couch any moment now and we'll be done."_

"'_Livia, in case you've forgotten, you never move around in your sleep. I used to watch you breathe just so that I could reassure myself you were fine." She arches an eyebrow at this new bit of trivia but remains stressed out, and so Peter draws her closer yet._

"_We'll be fine, Olivia. No human can go too long without sleep."_

"_You forget we're not talking about the average human."_

_It's true – Olivia isn't exactly a normal human; far from it, in fact. When she puts her mind to something she almost always get her way and Peter knows , from personal experience, that she can go at least four days without sleep before crashing. Four nights without her sounds like purgatory after the past six nights._

"_I don't know what to say, 'Liv."_

_She doesn't miss a beat._

"_Say it'll be fine. Say I'm emotionally strung out and I'll crash before a day. Say you'll come in the day. Peter, say you'll come back."_

_She has never been this emotional and desperate and it hurts, it freaking hurts, to see her like this. And what hurts even more is knowing that he can't say any of these things; can't promise her anything but pain and desperation._

_Would someone please end this nightmare?_

"_Sweetheart, you know I can't." He finally settles for disappointing her because it's better than lying to her, something he'll never do – never again._

_She dies. _

_That is the only way he can put it. Her eyes dim and her skin grows pale and she is so small and still that he can't help but picture Olivia's dead body, the one he had to confirm was his wife fifteen years in the future._

_Olivia's gone and he doesn't know when she'll be back._

_He refuses to acknowledge the possibility of this being the last dream. It's time to go back to limbo and maybe haunting Walter again, but he can't leave before he whispers three words to the night breeze; words he should have whispered to her._

"_Love you, Olivia."_

* * *

><p>The couch is a horrible spot to crash.<p>

Olivia wakes to the sight of empty shot glasses and wills herself to focus on the pounding of her head and not the soft texture of the object in her hands. For a second she considers crushing it in her hands before she can see it – a very brief, very dark second.

But Olivia isn't just one whole person anymore and the other side – the new old side of her with a lifetime's worth of memories she won't share – wins out as she gets up and places the tulip where it belongs, with the rest of them.

Where does she belong?

* * *

><p><strong>We are finally getting to the ficlet part of this thing, people. YES. I am training myself to write under-thousand chapters, and damn, it's harder than you would think. Remember – I love feedback in any way, shape or form, though I must admit a certain inclination towards reviews.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**21 Dreams**

**Eight : An Opportunity**

* * *

><p><em>He is not nearly as worried when she is late the next night, but damn if it doesn't hurt to know that part of her is resisting him. Rejection is the most deluded of all fears, and the most sensitive. The dominant part of his brain knows this can't be avoided – Olivia Dunham putting up a fight against the unknown – but that small part of him ruled by his heart just wants to curl up in a corner and give up. Peter doesn't know what to do with himself. He stands for hours, sinks down to the ground for another two and when Olivia shows up at the last possible moment he's so relieved he could cry, though he won't.<em>

"_Peter."_

_She is so happy, so, so happy even though a part of her can't let go of the fact that this won't last long; that she'll be back to fighting herself at every possible turn. Olivia is one hell of a stubborn woman and though this other side of her is slowly gaining control – hence her presence here tonight – the dominant side remains a Peter-less person who can't be bothered by trivial things such as sleep and tulips and feeling lonely._

"_Peter, I was so scared. A part of me knew I had to go to sleep – I didn't know why – but I pushed through against myself and it was just horrible. I'd get a cup of coffee and then walk to the sleeping pills before dumping everything and just sitting down and it was the most disturbing thing. I don't know who I am anymore and everything blurs together. Traces spread and I hear echoes in every memory." She is talking as if she never will again, words escaping her at such rapid speed that it takes Peter a while to catch on._

"'_Livia, I understand, but hold on – you've got control over yourself?"_

_She shrugs and sits down next to him. "A little. It's this really small part of my mind that knows I just have to get to sleep. I try to fight against myself – the dominant part – but it's so hard. She controls it all, and it's so difficult to get her to give in, even though my curiosity turns out to be a good thing when I'm trying to tempt myself. I feel like a nutcase with two voices in her head."_

_He is speechless. "Olivia, this is it. This is what we've been waiting for."_

_It takes her a bit longer to catch up, but when she does her answering smile is brilliant. "You're coming back."_

"_No, we can't be sure. 'Livia, they're still out there. You know it. They control everything. You can't get your hopes up; this could mean nothing. I mean-" _

_She cuts him off by pressing her lips against him in a move so swift that he misses it until he can feel her body moving against his._

"_I don't care." She smiles. "Peter, you're coming back."_

_It's hard because he's walking such a fine line here between the truth and lying but here stands Olivia, bright-eyed and hopeful and smiling, and he can't deny her any more than he could successfully take on an army of a hundred thousand._

"_I'm coming back."_

* * *

><p>Every waking moment is a fight to stay conscious.<p>

Olivia is terrified by herself – that little part of her that just wants to switch off and sleep all the time. She is terrified by her ability to compartmentalize and stay collected. Most of all, she's terrified of not knowing why she keeps giving in.

The vase gains another tulip every night and though her short naps – her lost fights – aren't long enough to get her emotional when she wakes up, the tulips don't seem as perfect as they did a week ago despite their unchanging state. Everything that reminds her of that field is regarded with disdain. Everyone with blue eyes is someone to keep her distance from. Everyone with brown hair doesn't have that exact shade.

Wrong. It's all wrong.

She finds herself wearing colors – clothes long stashed in a box somewhere deep inside her wardrobe. Every move, every action is poised for a reaction and made to accommodate some sort of life partner – a partner her lonely heart should know she doesn't have.

Astrid comments on her non-existent love life daily – it's her way of showing how close they've grown – but lately they hit her hard, and it hurts so much because once upon a time, in a different life, maybe, she wasn't alone. She was in love and happy.

Walter seems even more frazzled than usual but she knows she isn't paying as much attention on him as she should, considering that she is expected to give the longest, most detailed reports to his doctor.

Lincoln Lee makes for an interesting distraction – a new agent to break in, someone she can train and maybe save. But Lincoln has nothing on the blue-eyed man who haunts her and makes sure she knows just how lonely she is every waking moment.

She is terrified of the dark, something she got over as a child. Somehow the light seems just as daunting, and most of the time she has no idea what she wants: to sleep or to resist. To remember or to forget.

Olivia Dunham is a mess and it's all because of herself.

* * *

><p><strong>Eight down, thirteen more to go. We're almost halfway there! So don't stop now – keep reading and reviewing. You know it's for a good cause – the completion of this mad project.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	9. Chapter 9

**21 Dreams**

**Nine : These Blooms That Transcend Realities**

* * *

><p><em>She doesn't know what to say to him.<em>

_Maybe it's the guilt. _

_Maybe it's the fact that nothing's changed in the past twenty-four hours and she's probably gotten their hopes up all for nothing._

_Maybe it's just not knowing what he's seen._

"_Peter, you have to tell me what happened." She needs to know – actually, she just _needs_, period. She's projecting, or channeling, or whatever it's called. All she knows is that she's taking this pure _need _and turning it into a need for something else. Information. The truth. Facts that she knows her waking self will take note of and remember. She just needs to remember._

"'_Livia, you know that I can't." He doesn't like talking about this part – this part she doesn't know. Everything that happens with her by his side takes on this realistic quality, but events that happen in the silence of his mind or in the possible future or in some crazy time-slash-Doomsday machine – these events without her could just be figments of his imagination or the product of a sugar high. So he clings to the ridiculous notion that if he doesn't talk about it, if she doesn't know – it's all just his imagination; just in his head. None of it is real. Besides, he doesn't feel like challenging _them _and he's fairly sure the limitations are still in place. Maybe they've forgotten Peter and Olivia, and Peter doesn't want to alert them to his presence, or his stolen moments._

"_Please?"_

_It isn't fair when she asks him for something like this because she knows that he always gives in to her. Always. But this is the one time he can't afford to give in to her and so he tries to distract himself._

"_The moon never wanes." He comments idly, staring up at the sky. He wonders if there are simply no stars here or if the moon outshines them all._

"_Nothing changes here." Olivia sighs, defeated. She'll give up, but only for now. And that is all that he asks for – that she gives him some time. He'll try again the next day; he'll shout out future events to Walter and see how much he can get away with. But for now, he doesn't want to tempt fate, and he doesn't want to risk anything – he just wants to be with her._

"_I wake up with tulips in my hands every morning." She says and it is news to him, that these innocent flowers transcend realities._

"_Interesting," He comments casually while his brain starts working. _

"_It is." She keeps up an easy conversation, one that accommodates his thought process. "That night… when I started crying – the tulip had a tear on it. One single drop. Your tear."_

_She is particularly sharp; something he's always known about her – known and loved. It's true that he'd kept himself from crying that night, because it had felt like giving up, but that single teardrop had escaped him._

"_It's still there," She tells him, supplying information. "Everything from here remains frozen. I've got tulips that are a week old and they're just perfect." Not that her conscious half thinks so; it's just a bad case of sour grapes, Olivia jokes to herself. Her dominant half wants desperately to know the truth of these nights._

"_Could be some weird thing. You know how Aspirin works with roses."_

_She shoots him a look; he knows she's more of an Advil person. He shrugs – he can't keep up with two conversations, apparently._

"_Peter, nothing changes. It's just like you. This place is just like you. Traces-"_

"_- Bleed through." He's beginning to hate that damn phrase but it's the closest they can come to accurately describing this phenomena. "Let's try an experiment, then." _

_A shadow of his familiar smirk shows on his face but even that can't conceal the blatant hope shining in his eyes. Olivia watches curiously as he bends to snap off a tulip before gently tugging it into one side of her long hair._

"_There," He says, apparently satisfied. "Now we'll just wait to see if this-"_

"_- Bleeds through." Olivia smiles._

_As the moon fades, they can only cross their fingers and hope for the unchanging laws of existence to sway._

* * *

><p>Olivia wakes up before the sun can glare at her and for that, she's grateful. Everything seems so much harsher in the daylight.<p>

For one brief, heart-pounding moment, she realizes that her hands are free and she pauses to consider that maybe it's over; maybe now her heart won't break every single day.

But her heart breaks at the mere thought of it and Olivia is reminded, once again, of the second presence in her mind, the one that gains more and more control by the day. She's convinced it isn't going to be long before she starts to spend all of her waking moments daydreaming, as she certainly would if the new her had things her way.

A single, stem-less tulip flutters down and lands on her lap.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Traces bleed through<strong>_**… Nah, I'm not being annoying on purpose. I just love that phrase. It's so… foreboding? I don't know. We're almost up to ten; what do you think of this madness so far? Let me know! You know where to find me.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	10. Chapter 10

**21 Dreams**

**Ten : The Dangers Of Being Hopeful**

* * *

><p><em>Hope is such a dangerous thing, and yet Olivia knows the news she is about to deliver will only fuel this dangerous thing.<em>

"_It was there."_

_Somehow, even knowing how dangerous it is to hope, she can't help but do so._

"_The tulip, Peter. It was there. In my hair. And it's with the rest, and your tear – they're just frozen, Peter. Nothing changes."_

_It's all a little too much for Peter. He can't get up; Olivia sinks down instead. He's been stuck in limbo for so long that this small possibility of retuning to existence leaves him frozen… just like everything else here. But he has Olivia, his warm guardian._

"_I… Olivia, I don't know how this works. I don't know how to use it."_

_And that's the horrible thing about hope: It drags you down a thousand times faster than quicksand. _

"_What do you mean, you don't know? Peter, of course you do. Come on."_

_She is smiling and encouraging him, but he can see the minute it hits her: she folds into herself and her eyes lose a vital glint to them._

"'_Livia… I am so sorry, sweetheart." He doesn't know what else to say. She has done everything for him and somehow he can't do what these simple tulips are doing; he can't follow her back. He can't transcend realities._

_He can't break free._

"_They… they know." He realizes. "They're keeping me here, Olivia."_

"_The Observers." What's meant to be a question comes out as a flat sentence and somehow she can't even sit straight as she leans into him, letting him support her._

"'_Livia, this is how it is. They did something for me – I asked for something too big, and this is the price." He hesitates, but this is the only way he can get Olivia to understand. She needs to know the truth._

"_What, Peter? What could possibly be worth your entire life?" She doesn't think such a thing exists; her words express that quite clearly. He takes a moment to gather her hands in his and look her in the eye._

"_Yours."_

_The implications of his revelation send her reeling. Peter's life for her own. Her life for Peter's. Would they never get their happily-ever-after? Is there some sort of universal balance which denied them happiness? Are the Observers just not fond of them?_

"'_Livia, I can-"_

"_Explain." Her one-word demand is enough to convince him but it takes him so long to gather his thoughts. She gets up and paces like a caged animal; she _feels _like a caged animal right now, a pawn in the Observers' grand game plan._

"_When I entered the Machine… Olivia, that was a time machine. I can't explain it, but somehow I was sent fifteen years into the future. My God, 'Livia – that wasn't a future. The other world was gone. Ours was dying. Walter was in prison. Walternate was somewhere out there. And you and I… you and I were married." His voice grows so unbelievably tender that she has no qualms accepting this as the truth. She would be lying if she said that it had never crossed her mind: Peter and her._

"_We wanted kids, 'Liv. So badly. But the world… it wasn't a good place. And everything was just going to hell. We were slapping on Band-Aids, stitching up wounds to cover up cancer…"_

"_And then-" He lets out a strangled choke._

"_Olivia, you died."_

_Everyone dies eventually. She knows that. She also knows that her profession of choice has a higher mortality rate than most. But to hear the words… she has never been this still._

"_I buried my _wife_." His voice breaks on the last word. "Olivia, I couldn't – it wasn't right. And then Walter found something. The First People… the first people were us. Well, Walter, to be specific. And Walter had sent those parts back in time. Now Walter could send me – my consciousness – back in time. I could save you, Olivia. I was screwing up the entire balance of both universes, but I could save you."_

"_You know I had no choice."_

_It's the sad truth: They are prisoners of love, a force so strong that it leaves irreversible changes in its wake. Peter truly didn't have a choice; she wouldn't have had one, either. It is a matter of self-preservation; above all, keep the one you cannot live without alive._

"_Where do the Observers fit in here?"_

"_Olivia, they're everywhere in this. We messed with their entire scheme." He laughs bitterly. "And this is the price."_

"_It can't be, Peter," She wants so desperately to keep her tears to herself. "It can't – you and I, we can't end like this. Peter, please."_

_She reaches out to him and he laces his fingers to hers. It dawns upon him that any night could be their last, and he doesn't want to have any regrets, not this time around._

"_I love you, Olivia Dunham."_

"_I love you, too, Peter Bishop. Now shut up and save it, because you can say it to me when we wake up." A gentle smile softens the blow of her harsh words and together they face the fading moon, dangerously hopeful._

* * *

><p>Olivia doesn't know why, but waking up alone on this particular morning is the most painful thing she has ever done in her life.<p>

Her heart can't take any more blows.

It breaks apart into a million tiny shards.

* * *

><p><strong>Maybe I should've labeled this as 'angst' instead of 'hurtcomfort'. Oh, well. Hey, we're seriously done with the first half! Oh my God, you guys. I can't believe this. We might actually make it. Another ten hours or so. Remember – I need your support now more than ever.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	11. Chapter 11

**21 Dreams**

**Eleven : A Broken Heart**

* * *

><p>Olivia's heartbreak stays with her for the entire day - a perpetual raincloud - and it doesn't let up. Empty, hollow eyes alert everyone around her to something horribly wrong and it hurts even more when Astrid is the one to pop by and make sure she has some food in her system, not the mysterious man she's mysteriously waiting for.<p>

When night falls, the better side of her – the Peter-less one – resists strongly against sleep, knowing that whatever's going on in these dark hours, it's the root of her heartache.

But Olivia, the real Olivia, needs Peter more than ever.

And oh God, how does Peter feel?

Sleep can't seem to claim her fast enough.

* * *

><p>"<em>Peter!"<em>

_For one horrible, heart-breaking moment, she thinks she's lost him for good. She thinks that this is it; all the stolen moments they're allowed. From now on he will wander the night and she will search the tulips and they will be separated by a dimension and a broken heart, and she will have lost him forever._

_But she hasn't, and her own name has never sounded better to her ears than it does when he breathes it out loud, right into her neck as his arms wrap around her waist from behind._

"_Olivia."_

_She's crying already – she'd blame it on crazy hormones but she knows it's the fragments of her heart, the broken one. He pulls her in and protects her from the harsh truth of reality. She thinks that maybe she can cry her heart out and leave it here when she wakes up and live the rest of her days as a heartless robot who feels no pain._

_But even the prospect of waking up has her crying harder._

"_I was watching you today," Peter tells her as they sink down to the ground, a single entity united in love and pain, the golden duo._

"_You were." She says flatly in between sobs and hiccups. She wants to express joy at this because at least she wasn't that lonely, but she is physically incapable of doing anything other than crying right now._

"_I was. I couldn't leave you alone, not after..."_

"_I was with you the whole day." He interrupts himself; he doesn't want to complete his first sentence. Some things are better left unsaid. The events of last night are one of those things._

_Somehow his unseen presence makes her feel better and Olivia finds herself picking up the viable pieces of her heart and slowly putting them back together. This isn't the end; it can't be. They'll try again, and they'll try something else, and eventually – eventually Peter will be back, with her, where he belongs._

"_Peter, we can't give up."_

"_I know, 'Livia. And we won't. I promise." Finally, she hears the words she's been waiting for. Peter promises. And it's terribly childish, but it's a promise, which means it's going to happen. Peter will keep trying. They'll keep trying. They won't give up; they'll do everything over and over again._

_And eventually this nightmare will end._

_Desperation permeates the atmosphere; it has a bittersweet taste to it._

"_I don't think this is the key, Olivia." He doesn't want to tell her this, because these dreams are all they've got, but he's had time to stew over this and over this and go through it all again, and now he knows: he isn't going to just wake up next to her, having seamlessly travelled through worlds. That's Olivia. He's Peter. He'll make it, because he has her. Something will happen, but the Observers aren't going to give in that easily._

"_No." She insists. "It has to be, Peter. We don't have anything else." Desperation and sorrow mingle and the aftertaste veers toward tangible, taste-able pain._

"_I'll come back, Olivia. Somehow." He might; he needs time, and lots of it. Maybe some leeway from the Observers. A miracle sounds great right now._

"_You have to. You can't leave me alone, Peter. You can't."_

"_Don't worry, sweetheart. I promise."_

_And a promise has never meant this much to him._

* * *

><p>Olivia wakes up at four in the morning and immediately feels around for another person; a man. A few minutes later she chides herself for this and remains in bed, trying to get an additional hour or two of sleep.<p>

The tulip remains in her hands because she isn't going to reach over and put it with the rest, and it's a challenge: she wants to see if the flower can remain as perfect as it is now after two hours of her tossing and turning. She's going to challenge this impossible object and see if she can make it hurt as much as she does.

She doesn't go back to sleep, not at all, but it's just as relaxing to close your eyes and pretend you're not alone.

Except a small part of her knows she isn't really alone and just like that, her heart starts to mend itself.

* * *

><p><strong>Just another ten more, you guys! This is when I need your honest thoughts, reactions and inputs. Come on – we can do it, together.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	12. Chapter 12

**21 Dreams**

**Twelve : A Change In Pace**

* * *

><p><em>No one has ever told her that brainstorming can actually cause headaches but here they are, on the twelfth night, sharing and tossing one idea after the other. It's a big mess of words and terms she doesn't understand and his hands flying in the air, trying to make her understand. <em>

_They jokingly predict his return. Peter thinks maybe the Observers might miscalculate and it'll just happen; Olivia knows it'll be some big, painful affair with a potential happily-ever-after way down the road, a road littered with pain and heartbreak and more pain._

_There's something to be said about opposites and how they attract, but neither says it because it has been said a million times and more and besides, you don't get any more opposite than being from different worlds._

"_The tank."_

"_The tank? Seriously, 'Liv?"_

"_Not all of us can be cocky geniuses, Peter." She says in that sarcastic way of hers, charming him into smiling._

"_Thank God," Peter teases and kisses her lightly. "Now let's be serious."_

"_I am being serious. I found people in that tank, Peter."_

"_Keyword being people. I'm not sure I count as a person anymore, Olivia. Technically, I don't count as anything – I just don't exist." He hesitates before voicing out the painful truth. "I'm not real."_

"_You're real to me," She insists. "You'll always be real to me." _

"_I know."_

"_Look, there's no harm in trying, is there?"_

"_And how exactly are you going to get access to that tank without giving Walter some sort of explanation?"_

"_Scratch that. How are you even going to remember this idea when you wake up in the morning?"_

_Hot tears spring to her eyes as the full impact of this hopeless situation they're in finally presents itself to her. They can come up with a million ideas – even thousands that are guaranteed to work – but their one link to the real world – Olivia herself – will remain utterly clueless, unable to remember her dreams._

_How the hell is this going to work?_

"_How did this happen, Peter?" She asks, giving up on the brainstorming thing._

"_Well, you see, I made a deal. There was a price. I'm paying it."_

"_Thank you, Einstein."_

"_Don't insult me. Einstein? Look, sweetheart, I can give you a full rundown of how the minute I saw you in Baghdad that day I knew you were something special and how things happened from that point on which led us here, but we really don't have the time." He tilts his head toward the moon._

"_You always knew I was special, huh?" She grins slyly._

"_Of all the things you could have picked to comment on. Woman, you constantly surprise me in the best way possible." He smiles._

"_I'll take that as a compliment, Bishop."_

"_Ah, but it is, Dunham."_

_Their easy banter is another thing she will never take for granted. If Peter comes back – _when _Peter comes back – everything will be so different; much more appreciated. She'll take in every single moment and memorize every single comment and cram up her photographic memory with his smiles._

"_I hear Lincoln's your partner now."_

"_That's random." She frowns, a little puzzled by this sudden change in conversation._

"_I'm a guy, sweetheart. And the Lincoln Lee I know has a crush on the other Olivia. So I'm entitled to random questions, possessiveness and jealousy." _

"_Even in non-existence you manage to keep me monogamous." She jokes. It's amusing to see him act this way, and it's so normal that she pretends, for a moment, that this conversation takes place in her car while they're driving to another crime scene._

"_I try my best," He smirks._

"_Lincoln isn't my partner. I've got someone else in mind for that, you see."_

"_Do tell." He straightens up, an eager listener._

"_You might know him. Kinda cute, blue eyes, infuriatingly smart, pain in my ass…" A tiny smile plays on her lips and her eyes shine brightly._

"_Only 'kinda' cute? I expected great things from you, Olivia Dunham." He huffs, pretending to be oblivious._

"_What can I say? You've forever ruined me for other men." It's the truth, and she doesn't mind it, not one bit._

"_I think I like the sound of that." He smiles as he holds her closer still._

"_You better come back or it'll all have been for nothing." She warns, her voice shaking and their flirty comments come to an end._

"'_Livia, I promised, didn't I? We're going to try. Every single possible way that we can think of – we'll try."_

_She likes the sound of that._

* * *

><p>Olivia's had more sleep these past few days than she has in the last five years, and she knows it's all because of her dreams. The dreams that only a part of her can remember.<p>

It becomes a morning ritual of sorts to place a single tulip into the vase along with the rest and admire their perfection. She feels good today; a leftover high from her light dream. As she turns away from the tulips and prepares to face another day of weird horrors, she briefly wonders how long this strange routine will keep up.

She hopes that it will last forever.

* * *

><p><strong>So now Olivia's dreams can affect her moods. I seriously don't know where I'm going with this, everyone. Once again, please keep in mind that I'm totally winging it. Don't let that keep you from dropping a line or two!<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	13. Chapter 13

**21 Dreams**

**Thirteen : The Unexpected Is Unexpected**

* * *

><p>"<em>It's a pen," Peter remarks, not quite knowing what to say. The little wheels and gears and whatnot in his brain are turning and working double-time as he tries to figure out what this means for them; for his escape to reality.<em>

"_I fell asleep while doing some crossword thing. My brain was restless but I guess I was much more tired than I thought." Olivia shrugs. She doesn't quite get the big deal. So now's she bringing stuff to this place and from it. So what?_

"_Thank your brain for me. It's given me an idea for something new." Peter smiles, taking the pen from her hand._

"_I don't think I like the sound of that. I mean, should I like the sound of that?" Olivia asks uncertainly though she lets Peter have her arm when he motions for it._

"_You will. This is going to be brilliant, Olivia. Just hold on." He scribbles on her arm for a minute or two before letting go of her limb and allowing her to read his clear print:_

**Olivia, my name is Peter Bishop. You've been dreaming of me for the past thirteen nights. You need to bring me back, 'Livia. You'll know how to. Just in case, start sleeping with a pen in your hand every night from now on. Love, Peter.**

"_I am going to freak out," Olivia grins, apparently amused. "I might start jumping around and stuff."_

"_Just don't hurt yourself. 'Livia, this might be it. This could work."_

_They're both in good spirits – this is it, their next shot at ending this once and for all, and it's all thanks to a crossword; a crossword and a pen, mundane, everyday objects she's never thought twice about. And now they could be responsible for bringing the sole reason of her existence back to reality. Olivia wants to laugh but she can't; she's far too nervous._

"_I seriously love you right now." Peter says suddenly and it's too much; she has to work on containing her laughter._

"_Because I fell asleep while holding a pen?" She questions, grinning uncontrollably._

"_Because you fell asleep while holding a pen." He nods._

* * *

><p>Olivia sleeps like a cat, she's been told, or rather, she wakes like one, stretching all of her limbs slowly. Her good reflexes and reasonable eyesight allow her to catch the slightly smudged print on her hand and her eyes make quick work of it, clutching the customary tulip in her other hand.<p>

**Olivia, my name is Peter Bishop. You've been dreaming of me for the past thirteen nights. You need to bring me back, 'Livia. You'll know how to. Just in case, start sleeping with a pen in your hand every night from now on. Love, Peter.**

She doesn't know if she should laugh or freak out or simply take it in stride. But she hasn't had coffee yet and so her version of freaking out, which involves jumping around energetically, is definitely out. Laughing doesn't seem appropriate anymore and so she just leans back against her headboard, trying to make sense of this.

Peter Bishop. Walter's son. Walter's _dead _son. The man she's been dreaming of for the past thirteen nights; her thirteen tulips.

Where is he? Where does she need to bring him back from? A field? _'You'll know how to?'_ Well, she doesn't, okay? She doesn't know how to bring him back from wherever he is. Now what?

She has to admit it was a pure stroke of luck that she would fall asleep with a pen in her hands; a handy way of communication for someone who can never remember her dreams. She'll take Bishop's advice and sleep with a pen, just in case. After all, it won't hurt anyone.

But it's the last sentence that has her worrying her bottom lip, gnawing on it. _'Love, Peter.'_ You don't sign a letter to just anyone with the word 'love'. Sure, as a kid you do. And you might use the term loosely while growing up. But she is a grown woman, and the blue-eyed man of her dreams is probably around her age, too. So yes, the word 'love' has her freaking out a little.

Just a little.

Now she just has to figure out what's going on and try to communicate with that small part of her who seems to know everything.

One thing's for sure: Olivia won't be resisting sleep tonight.

She's far too curious.

* * *

><p><strong>Command, this is Chief. We have made contact. Repeat: We have made contact. Awaiting further orders. Over.<strong>

**I amuse myself. Maybe you'd like to distract me from my insanity? A nice review would do the trick.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	14. Chapter 14

**21 Dreams**

**Fourteen : Awaiting Further Correspondence**

* * *

><p><em>Olivia arrives clutching a pen and a piece of paper, and they sit in close proximity to each other to read what she's written in response to Peter's note from last night.<em>

**Mr. Bishop,**

**I don't quite know what to say. I remember your face, but nothing after that, so it's nice to have a name. But it's a puzzling name because, you see, I know of a Peter Bishop, deceased son of Walter Bishop. I would ask if you are the same person but it seems highly unlikely.**

**I am afraid I have to inform you that I do not, in fact, know how to bring you back. Further details would be much appreciated, especially from myself as I gather I am present somehow.**

**It would be much appreciated if you could pen your response to this note on the opposite page as it was quite hard to scrub out a paragraph's worth of words on my arm.**

**Awaiting further correspondence,**

**Olivia Dunham.**

"_Hey, you're kinda entertaining when you're pretending to not know me." Peter remarks as he starts drafting a reply in his mind, Olivia still right next to him._

"_I'm not the one who wrote on someone's arm asking for help and signing the note with 'love'. Freaked out about that, by the way." Olivia informs him._

"_Hmm… go on, break my heart, 'Liv."_

"_Drama queen," Olivia mutters, rolling her eyes._

"_Do you wanna write?" Peter asks as he starts penning down his reply._

"_To myself?" Olivia asks uncertainly._

"_No, to ET. Yes, 'Livia, to yourself. Maybe set yourself at ease, you know." Peter suggests after a short joke._

"_You go first." Olivia decides. She peers over Peter's shoulder to see what he's writing._

**Olivia,**

**I can't tell you how much it means to have you write back. **

**I am Walter's son, 'Livia. By now, you've probably heard tons of Walter's theories about different worlds and realities. And you know that the Observers step in to alter timelines all the time. Think about it, Olivia – is it such a stretch to believe that I could be alive?**

**I did something, 'Liv, and the Observers decided to clean up after me. I don't exist anymore, not technically. I'm suspended in a state of non-existence right now but your abilities allow you to travel to this plane every night, which is how I've been seeing you. **

**We've talked about this for a while now, but you and I agree that the Observers are probably the reason why you can't remember your dreams right now. It's amazing that we're able to write to you, actually, but I guess they didn't account for this possibility.**

**Sorry about your arm, by the way. I'm sure it was a total pain to wash off the ink but that's the only way we knew how to contact you. I'm sure you can imagine we had quite a laugh when we realized your falling asleep with a pen held the key to our questions.**

**Love,**

**Peter.**

_Olivia frowned critically as Peter passed her the paper and the pen. "You're sticking with 'Love, Peter'?"_

"_What's wrong with that?" Peter asks innocently._

"_Peter, I freaked out. I'm a grown woman who doesn't hear these words very often, especially not from some guy I've been dreaming about."_

"_Get used to it, 'Liv. I'm saying it for the rest of our lives."_

_Olivia gives him one last, long look before focusing on the task at hand. "Suit yourself."_

**I don't really know what to write. Do I call you Olivia? Do I sign this 'from Olivia'? Peter thinks that if I write something, you might be less suspicious about this but I don't know how this works. Just know that I am that small part of you who got her heart broken and who keeps those tulips even though you've considered throwing them out a thousand times. Please – help Peter. You need him. We need him.**

"_Here goes nothing," Olivia mutters._

"_Let's hope for the best," Peter advices, leaning in for one last kiss._

* * *

><p>When she wakes up she's almost excited to check out the piece of paper she had held while sleeping last night. Sure, this is all a little unusual, but these letters might hold some answers for her, and Olivia is all for those.<p>

**Olivia, **she reads.

**I can't tell you how much it means to have you write back. **

**I am Walter's son, 'Livia. By now, you've probably heard tons of Walter's theories about different worlds and realities. And you know that the Observers step in to alter timelines all the time. Think about it, Olivia – is it such a stretch to believe that I could be alive?**

**I did something, 'Liv, and the Observers decided to clean up after me. I don't exist anymore, not technically. I'm suspended in a state of non-existence right now but your abilities allow you to travel to this plane every night, which is how I've been seeing you. **

**We've talked about this for a while now, but you and I agree that the Observers are probably the reason why you can't remember your dreams right now. It's amazing that we're able to write to you, actually, but I guess they didn't account for this possibility.**

**Sorry about your arm, by the way. I'm sure it was a total pain to wash off the ink but that's the only way we knew how to contact you. I'm sure you can imagine we had quite a laugh when we realized your falling asleep with a pen held the key to our questions.**

**Love,**

**Peter.**

And underneath that, she sees a small paragraph written in her own familiar hand, something that's almost impossible to imitate.

**I don't really know what to write. Do I call you Olivia? Do I sign this 'from Olivia'? Peter thinks that if I write something, you might be less suspicious about this but I don't know how this works. Just know that I am that small part of you who got her heart broken and who keeps those tulips even though you've considered throwing them out a thousand times. Please – help Peter. You need him. We need him.**

It's weird, to say the least – reading something in your own handwriting, having no recollection at all of writing it. But even as her eyes scan through the words one last time she can feel that small part of her reliving last night, writing those words.

Weird.

* * *

><p><strong>I think it's safe to say we've made good contact. Just to clear things up – I'm not going to have Peter come back my own way. One way or another, this fic will end where Fringe left us last week – Olivia, with a sketch of a man she's been dreaming about and doesn't know. I'm not messing with canon. What do you think? Am I doing the right thing? Let me know!<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	15. Chapter 15

**21 Dreams**

**Fifteen : If You Insist**

* * *

><p><strong>Peter (since you insist on a first name basis), three years of Fringe have led to the unfortunate demise of my disbelief, so I guess I find the possibility of you having survived acceptable. The Observers are a group we have been dealing with for a while now, and I find it best to believe them capable of anything. I am taking my own advice and seeking help for you. This weekend I will be driving down to visit someone by the name of Sam Weiss. I hear he knows almost everything there is to know about matters such as these and Nina Sharp has advised me to set up a meeting more than once. I sincerely hope this goes well. –Olivia.<strong>

"_You're not one for words, are you?" Peter jokingly asks Olivia, reading her note._

"_Give me a break. She's gone through a lot, Peter."_

"_Do you even hear yourself?" It is oddly amusing to hear Olivia alternatively refer to herself in the first person and third person._

"_Don't get me started." Olivia warns lightly._

"_So… you're going to Sam, huh?"_

"_I've never seen him in this reality, but it wouldn't be a surprise if he remembers everything about you."_

"_The Weiss man has a way of knowing these things," Peter agrees, slipping in some humor. In all honesty, he is unbelievably happy right now. They are so close to a solution; it's almost tangible. This sense of victory isn't lost on Olivia; she hasn't stopped smiling since she first returned with a note in her hand._

"_Do we write back?" Olivia is asking him, holding up the note. Peter considers for a moment before he takes the piece of paper from Olivia._

"_Why not?" Manners are manners._

**Dear Olivia (I do insist), thank you thank you thank you. You're sitting next to me right now, happier than I've seen you in a long time, and I've got only you to thank because nothing makes me happier than seeing you smile. Thank you, 'Livia, and I hope Sam can help. Love, Peter.**

"_You're going to scare me off with all of your lovesick confessions." Olivia warns him, checking through his note. He knows that she's only half-joking._

"_Nah. You're not going to give up this mystery just because some stranger can't keep his emotions in check. Besides, I'm sure you'll be fine – it's not like I'm so hobo or anything." Peter can't reign in his emotions, and it shows. Besides, he's hoping to trigger something in Olivia's conscious mind – something that will lift this boundary and allow her to remember her dreams just fine._

"_You can't rely on your good looks to get your through everything, Bishop."_

"_Now she tells me I'm good-looking." Peter jokes._

"_Ah, a minor slip-up. Don't let it get to your ego." Olivia warns, already grinning._

"_Don't worry about that. It already has."_

_Olivia's groan is nothing more than an act._

* * *

><p><strong>Dear Olivia (I do insist), thank you thank you thank you. You're sitting next to me right now, happier than I've seen you in a long time, and I've got only you to thank because nothing makes me happier than seeing you smile. Thank you, 'Livia, and I hope Sam can help. Love, Peter.<strong>

This guy has some nerve, Olivia tells herself as she reads through the latest note, one hand twirling the stem of the newest tulip. He's repeatedly putting his heart on the line and wearing it on his sleeve. She supposes that he has nothing to fear since her dream-self is clearly head over heels for him, but still.

She's supposed to leave in an hour to meet Sam Weiss, and despite her initial impression of Peter Bishop, she really does hope that this Weiss character can help them out, not just because it's a long drive but because she really does want to be able to fix this.

As the days pass, she's growing much more in tune with that small part of her, the Peter-loving part, and she knows she's never been this happy before. In fact, her happiness is something Olivia never thought possible. The amount of joy and contentment she feels is just amazing.

So Olivia really does want Sam Weiss to help Peter, because she knows now that she needs him, despite anything else she might say.

Besides, he's not at all hard on the eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>I can't believe it. Fifteen chapters down, only six more to go. Wow, we actually made it, you guys. I can't thank you enough for your support because for all of its pure madness, this challenge would have gone to waste without the appropriate readers. So please don't stop now – let's reach the finish line together, shall we? Reviews are love.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	16. Chapter 16

**21 Dreams**

**Sixteen : A Word From The Weiss**

* * *

><p><em>Olivia takes forever to get here and Peter is just about to panic when she appears at the other end of the clearing, triumphantly waving a note.<em>

_There really is no point in her writing the notes since she has perfect recall and can tell him all about the meeting with Sam Weiss, but it makes things feel a little bit more normal for Olivia when she's conscious and so he doesn't mind it. Besides, it's fun to tease her and try to get her all flustered when he flirts or writes about emotions._

"'_Livia, you okay? What took you so long?"_

"_I'm fine," She says casually, holding up the note. "Just had a lot to write." She has a nonchalant smirk on her mouth and her eyes have a certain glint in them, causing his curiosity to flare._

"_Let's hear it, then."_

**Peter – Sam Weiss remembers you, just as I predicted he would. **

_Peter looks up in surprise but Olivia nods, telling him to keep reading._

**I don't remember you, not really, but today I finally connected with that small part of me and though it confuses me that one part of my mind remembers you and yet the other doesn't, I will admit it's much easier having access to my dreams.**

_Ah, Olivia is pleased with herself for finally becoming one whole person again. Peter grins._

**Back to Sam Weiss. He remembers you, Peter; that man knows everything. I don't know why I hadn't thought to meet him earlier – he would have saved me a lot of paperwork. **

**Sam thinks that the Observers are cleaning up, but not in the way that you thought. They're not cleaning up after your actions; rather, it's their own mess they're dealing with this time. The way your life should have played out is a little unclear to me, but obviously you had to break the rules.**

_He can almost see her pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration._

**All that I managed to understand is that it was always in the plan for you to bridge the two worlds, and the moment you did, you 'served your purpose', in the eyes of the Observers, anyway. Even Sam doesn't really understand why they got rid of you, but it has something to do with Walter and me. We're different people without you, and maybe that's how it should have been.**

**But that's not how I want it to be, and I know Walter thinks of you every single day.**

**Sam was being his usual self and didn't offer a solution, so all I have is 'The solution's inside yourself, Buttercup.' It's going to take me a while to decipher those words so I hope, in the meantime, that you hang in there. It won't be long now. –Olivia. **

"_Yes, he's still calling me Buttercup." Olivia groaned before Peter could get away with a comment._

"_Yeah, thought he might." Peter smiles, absorbing the contents once more. "Do you know what this means? We're so close now, 'Livia."_

"_I hate to say this, but don't get your hopes up, Peter. I have no idea what Sam was talking about." Olivia frowns, obviously trying to pick apart the words and search for some sort of meaning. "What's with the Observers, though? They seem so out of it these days."_

"_Tell me about it," Peter nods, going back over that paragraph. "I, quote, 'served my purpose', unquote? What does that even mean?"_

_Olivia shakes her head and gives Peter an indulgent smile._

"_I don't understand why you even try to make sense of them."_

* * *

><p><strong>Olivia –<strong>

**This is great news and this note marks the last time I'll write to you, I guess, since we have no more need for recorded correspondences like these. But before this ends, I'd like to say thank you, again, 'Livia. You helped me even when it was not clear who I was. Maybe it's because you just took your own advice, or maybe you sincerely wanted to help me. Either way, I'm grateful and I hope I'll see you again soon. Good luck with figuring out the solution. Love, Peter.**

She almost doesn't want these notes to come to an end but that's ridiculous, right? Of course they have to end; they have no need for them, not anymore. That's a good thing. A great thing, even.

But Olivia refuses to admit the truth to herself. She reasons that she simply liked writing letters, something she hadn't done in years. Or maybe it was just the thrill of knowing that she was responsible for carrying a piece of paper between universes every night. No matter what, she had enjoyed these letters and they will be missed.

But now she has work to do. Now she has to buckle down and crack her mind for ideas because it's time to bring Peter back, and she wants him back, even if she won't tell anyone else.

Just like she won't tell anyone else that her favorite part of the whole letter exchange had been the way Peter signed his – a last line that made her feel warm and accepted and just happy.

_Love, Peter_.

* * *

><p><strong>We're getting close now, folks. Oh my God, I can't believe there are only five more chapters left. Can you believe it? I just can't get over the fact that we've actually done it. (Well, we're close to it.) Just… wow. What do you think? Let me know – did you know that a review's the most convenient form of feedback? Just sayin'.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	17. Chapter 17

**21 Dreams**

**Seventeen : In Limbo**

* * *

><p>With every passing hour all three of them – Olivia still thinks of herself as two separate people for now – grow steadily anxious. By nightfall, Olivia is thoroughly disappointed for having nothing to report to Peter. She's spent the whole day pacing her office in Harvard while Walter raved about some new recipe for cotton candy or something, and Walter's long list of ingredients, spoken aloud, had really not helped her thought process.<p>

They're in limbo, that awkward place of in-between where nothing really happens and nothing really stops. It grates on everyone's nerves because this is precious time wasted, but what are you going to do about it? Riddles are never anyone's strong suit and this one - issued by the Weiss man - is so... open that Olivia thinks she might have to go through an entire lifetime's worth of memories before she can even dream of getting close to the solution.

Finally she falls asleep and it's a welcome reprieve until she realises that even in her dreams she remains restless.

* * *

><p><em>It's a nice night, as it always is and Olivia wonders if every night is exactly the same or slightly different; an imperceptible change to a single tulip. Maybe the moon shines a shade brighter. Maybe the breeze whispers a new secret. <em>

_As they savor each moment together, they talk about everything and anything and finally, Sam Weiss. They can't help but wonder if Sam Weiss really does know everything, or if he's just like a therapist and pretends to know everything when he really knows nothing, and makes you do all of the work? _

I see. And how do you feel about this? Hmm… well, do you think it could have a different outcome? Ah. And what are you going to do to facilitate this? Marvelous.

_Peter does a great role-play for being the useless therapist and Olivia tries to laugh; she really does._

_Olivia is the more upset of the two and so Peter makes it his mission of the night to get her to smile. "C'mon, 'Livia. Once we get over this, we won't be here for a long, long time. We might as well enjoy this memory. I don't think this place still exists in reality."_

_This inexplicably saddens her, but she tries not to show it. It's a real shame, though, that it doesn't exist anymore. This clearing is kind of special; she knows that now, after countless nights spent here. It seems like a million years ago that she first entered this clearing in a dream. She wonders what's happened to it in reality before deciding that she doesn't want to know on the off-chance that it's now a fast food chain or the likes._

_Peter invites her to rest against him and so she does, admiring the moon. She wonders where all the stars have gone; sure, they weren't there that night that she and Peter met, but it's been years and she's a little disappointed, actually. But then she realizes that she's just being immature and projecting her dissatisfaction and _of course_ this place is perfect the way it is._

_It isn't long before Peter starts pointing out made-up constellations and she lets herself drift away until she can see his constellations; actually see them. _

_She thinks the night sky might be big enough to contain her love for this remarkable man._

* * *

><p>Olivia Dunham is restless and irritated.<p>

She feels as if the answer is right in front of her nose; that acute sensation of missing something. It annoys her and bothers her and she just doesn't like it.

A few calls to Sam Weiss have proved futile and if she hears someone call her 'Buttercup' one more time she will not be responsible for her actions.

To top it all off, it's two more days until Sunday and somehow she just knows that there'll be a case this weekend, just like every other weekend. Maybe she should start working on the weekends and taking Wednesdays off instead. Wednesday's a good day – always slow, rarely ever a case day. Wednesday's good, unlike crazy, unpredictable Sunday.

Oh, God – she's giving days of the week personality traits.

* * *

><p><strong>Last slow chapter. I think. Oh wow, you guys. Only four more chapters left. I think things should start picking up after that. Or maybe one more normal dream. I'm winging it, remember? Suggestions can be made via review, or really, just a plain old review is great, too.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	18. Chapter 18

**21 Dreams**

**Eighteen : It's Right On The Tip Of My…**

* * *

><p><em>It annoys Olivia to no end, knowing that she has the answer within herself; holds the key to bringing Peter back. Sam Weiss has always been fond of doing this to her - getting her all messed up – but doesn't he understand that this is not time for games and riddles? This is Peter's life hanging in the damn balance and she really has no more patience left.<em>

_Peter watches her pace up and down, wondering if it's possible for her to wear a hole into nature's soft green carpeting of the clearing. She rants and goes on and on about being frustrated and wanting to kill Sam Weiss and he loves her all the more for it because she rarely ever loses her cool and he thinks it's adorable. It's also really frustrating for her, and he doesn't like the way she gets all worked up about it, but he lets her knock herself out._

_At one point she stops to observe aloud that he enjoys her desperation. His nod apparently sets her off again and so he just sits down, letting her wear herself out. What she's really doing is venting out everything she's kept bottled up for so long, and he thinks it's good for her; therapeutic, even._

_It takes a while, but the great Olivia finally runs out of steam as he knew she would and so he pats the open ground next to him in lieu of an invitation and she plops down next to him. They shift until her head is in his lap, a comfortable position for both of them as she takes deep breaths and he runs his hand through her hair, and they can both see the crazy constellations they have come up with; Walter & Gene's Milkshake is a personal favorite, as is Harried Astrid._

_And then there's them, the Nameless Constellation and she couldn't have picked a better name for them because they are nameless._

_Nameless._

_She doesn't know why but the word sticks with her for the longest time and she knows she will wake up with it in her head. The question is whether it will be relevant to anything logical, but sitting here in this field, with Peter slowly rocking her to sleep – in a dream - , she really can't care less about a word buzzing in her head. If it's there when she wakes up, it's there._

_He tries to get her to stop worrying and at one point makes a joke about letting her hair down. She simply replies that it already is. It is, and he should know since he's been playing with it._

_And the he pulls out an old trick, the 'What-Would-Our-Kids-Be-Like?' game and she's thoroughly engrossed._

_They suggest and debate and discuss and by the end of the night they have their offspring, a small girl with green eyes and brown curls by the name of Elizabeth._

_Peter knows that he can't wait to hold her in his arms but wisely refrains from sharing that particular sentiment with Olivia._

_She might want a few more years of peace after this debacle before plunging headfirst into constant chaos._

* * *

><p>True to her word, Olivia Dunham wakes up with a single word, 'nameless', bouncing around in her head. She doesn't know why and she certainly doesn't recall anything related to this single word, but she doesn't want to take any chances and so decides to head out to the lab, where the multilingual Astrid might be able to help her.<p>

She doesn't even realize that the stem-less tulip is withering or that the perfectly preserved teardrop is gone.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's the beginning of the end. Only three more chapters left. Ah! Wow, I'm just… so… yeah, really just in disbelieve, I think. Just… woah. Review, please? I'd love to hear from you guys while I slave over my keyboard.<strong>

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	19. Chapter 19

**21 Dreams**

**Nineteen : It's Going Great; It's Going Bad**

* * *

><p><em>That night a hushed silence settles over them and she knows it won't be long now; won't be long before she will wake up with Peter next to her, watching her as he always does.<em>

_She shares this with him and while he's not nearly as optimistic, they both feel the renewed hope in them. He talks about what they'll do and where they'll go and she tells him about her days and how she feels like a mother, worrying over Lincoln._

"_He's like the youngest kid in class, 'Livia. It's natural." Peter laughs it off, amused._

"_It's not. But then again, I don't really have anything to draw comparisons on." She admits, though it hurts her pride –just the tiniest bit – to give in. She can't fully reconcile the two Olivias yet, but she knows she'll make it. Soon._

"_Exactly. He's the first real newbie we've had, 'Liv. I mean, Walter obviously never counted. I wasn't a real part of the deal until much later and by then, I just was. Astrid's always been there. Think of it – you haven't had to break in a new agent, ever. This is just you being worried."_

"_You're right," She sighs. "I'm still telling him that he can talk to me anytime, though."_

"_You mean anytime during office hours, right?" Peter checks._

"_Peter, we work in Fringe. We don't exactly have office hours." She says dryly._

"_But for him, you mean office hours. Because after that you're all mine, Agent Dunham." He gives her a patented Peter Bishop© smile and she laughs before rearranging her features into a mock-serious contemplation._

"_If you insist," She finally concedes and he triumphantly gathers her in his arms._

"_Oh, I insist." He assures her. _

"_Now you need to make yourself free after hours too, Mr. Bishop."_

"_But I always am."_

"_You mean like that one time we were supposed to have dinner and you were milking Gene?"_

"_Hey! I was helping Walter, okay? And besides, you said it yourself – it was a one-time thing. I've never been near Gene again after that." She knows she isn't imagining the small shudder that rocks his frame as he talks of Walter's pet cow._

_Sometimes she wonders if this easy back-and-forth between them is _too _easy when conversation is so hard to hold with everyone else. But then she remembers it's just further proof that they belong together, no matter where they are._

_The moon isn't really here tonight, and she wants, desperately, to ignore it, but this feels like an omen._

_It is dark before she's gone and Peter's grip on her is the only thing keeping her anchored to land; keeping her from floating into the inky dark night._

* * *

><p>Olivia sleeps in that morning because everything is so dark; so hopelessly dark.<p>

When she comes to, she knows she isn't imagining that scent – Peter – and she knows the ache in her neck is because she leaned against him the wrong way. It's comfortably reassuring to know that she can pinpoint these little things and connect the dots now.

She knows that it's just a matter of days before she is wholly herself again, and really, everything's getting along great.

Until she realizes she has woken up empty-handed.

* * *

><p><strong>I finally get the hang of this ficlet thing and we're already nearing the end. Story of my life. Two more chapters left, you guys! I just can't believe this. And guess what I'm doing after this? I am taking a nap. No, seriously. I'm going to nap till Fringe gets on because I was up all last night – not writing – but scolding myself. 'You insane person. Who the hell does 21 thousand words in 24 hours? Are you trying to kill yourself? Is that it?' Yeah, I talk to myself.<strong>

**Review?**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	20. Chapter 20

**21 Dreams**

**Twenty : The End Is Near**

* * *

><p>"<em>I didn't get a tulip last night."<em>

"_Hmm?"_

"_Peter, I didn't get a tulip last night."_

"_Okay, so…" He trails off uncertainly._

"_Peter, I'm scared." _

_Those two words are enough to capture his attention and his focus is fully on Olivia now; she looks terrified. "I knew days ago that things were ending soon, and I just immediately thought it meant you're coming back. But, Peter, what if the dreams are coming to an end? What if I stop before we can get you back? It's already harder to get here."_

"_What do you mean, harder to get here?" He's alarmed now; Olivia's got both of them riled up and he prays to God it's all for nothing._

"_Peter, look." She tilts her head to the sky. "It's almost over and I've just gotten here. I fell asleep hours ago. Peter, it's taken me hours to get here."_

_Now he's scared._

"_Sweetheart, I need you to calm down and tell me everything."_

_He sits her down and sinks down next to her. Olivia inhales deeply to prepare herself._

"_I woke up this morning and it was so dark, I didn't realize. But when I rolled over to put the tulip in as usual… that's when it hit me: there was no tulip. I thought it didn't matter, that it was just a flower. But Peter, I couldn't bring one small flower with me last night, and tonight it's taken me hours to get here. What's happening?"_

_She is so scared; so, so scared and for the first time ever, he's scared, too. So scared that he can't even comfort her._

"_I… I don't know, 'Livia."_

_They settle in silence for a few minutes; fear creeps in and steals everything, even words of reassurances._

"_Olivia, no matter what happens next, you know that I love you, right?"_

"_I know, Peter. And I love you too."_

_It is impossibly hard to say those words back to him, because it feels like giving up; it feels like admitting defeat._

_They don't do defeat, and they won't end like this. But that same sense of conviction that had led her to those words is now gone, as if it never existed in the first place and Olivia doesn't know which is worse: if she never wakes up or if she wakes up without Peter._

_And when Peter doesn't say anything else and just holds her close, she knows the end is near._

* * *

><p>Olivia Dunham is puzzled.<p>

She wakes with a huge empty spot in her memory, a heartache so strong she feels like part of her is gone forever and a vase of white tulips, all withered.

She has been dreaming; she's absolutely sure of it. So why doesn't she remember anything?

And why is she hurting like this? Why does it feel like she will never be the same; like everything has just taken a turn for the worse?

The first thing she does is get rid of the dead flowers.

Olivia just wants to leave this behind her, but she knows now, just as surely as she knows her own name, that this inexplicable ache will be a part of her, forever.

* * *

><p><strong>*sigh* I do love me a good tragedy. But wait – it's not over yet! We have one more chapter left for me to mess things up and fix them so that they match the current canon. What do you think will happen? Why not review and tell me?<strong>

**Shout out to **_**gameoff **_**who's leaving great reviews as I write. I'm really getting encouraged by those and they're keeping me up and writing right now. Thanks so much! I'll (hopefully) get around to writing back to your reviews soon because you raise some interesting points!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


	21. Chapter 21

**21 Dreams**

**Twenty-One : Traces**

* * *

><p><em>Olivia Dunham is all alone in the world as she takes in a full moon, luminescent tulips and a melodic breeze.<em>

_She sits down for hours, waiting for someone who doesn't exist._

_And when the time comes to wake up, she knows she will not return for a long, long time._

* * *

><p><em>He watches as she slowly sits down, wonderstruck. <em>

_How can she not remember him?_

_How_ can_ she remember him?_

_Why is she here?_

_Why isn't she _here_?_

_She had predicted long ago that they would be separated by a world and a broken heart, and she had been right. He longs so badly to comfort her, pick up the pieces but how can he do that when she doesn't even know him?_

_When he doesn't even know himself?_

_She sits down and he takes his rightful spot next to her but he waits for hours, knowing that her head will never again lean against his chest and her eyes will never again shine with the thrill of a stolen moment and her heart will never again have the chance to be whole._

_It is entirely too cruel – the way he had been offered a second chance; the way it had been ripped right out of his hand the moment he had dared to trust in it._

_And now it's too late. Traces remain, yes, but they are nothing more._

_Traces don't matter to her._

_She simply sits and watches and waits and he wants to shake her and tell her that he's already here, but he is and he isn't and it's entirely too painful to comprehend._

_It is the saddest thing in the world when two people are meant to be together but something else intervenes, and right now he's convinced it's also the most painful._

_The wind teases her hair and a phantom ache in his hands only serves to highlight what he wants most: just to be able to touch her at this very moment, to soothe her. He runs a hand down her bare arm but she merely shivers in response._

_He can see her path now. She will move on, and though she will never fall in love again, she will make herself. And they will have perfect children who won't have his hair and his mother's name. She'll move on and he'll be here, in limbo, cursed to an eternity alone, knowing that even when her time comes they will not be reunited._

_She leaves soon after, and though he forms the three words he's told her countless time, they morph into the light breeze and all she hears is a light whistle._

_He thinks his heart might never beat again._

* * *

><p>Olivia Dunham wakes up to the early morning sun and goes for a jog, her usual routine from before Fringe Division.<p>

She goes home and makes herself a crappy breakfast of coffee, coffee and fruit, another pre-Fringe Division routine.

As she sips on her fourth cup of coffee, she pulls out her sketchbook and waits for the sun to hit it just right before she finds herself with a tentative arc of an eyebrow, the warm set of deep, blue eyes and a face so familiar she feels that phantom part of her heart ache. Traces of small things are coming back to her and she wouldn't mind a slight trace in every single memory she has, if only to pretend that the loneliness hasn't always been there.

But she knows this will be the missing part of her, the one she will carry with her forever, knowing that she will never have him and he will never have her, just like her empty dream where she waits and waits for a ghost of a dream.

How can a dream hurt so much?

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, so you see, we're back to square one right now. I imagine this is the morning she gets called in for last week's case. Her sketch was fairly recent – no notable creases – so this is how it fits for me. Does this work for you? Why not let me know – I love it when stories that are long finished continue to be reviewed because it shows that you left an impact, not just a current trend.<strong>

**Thank you to everyone for making my first Fringe experience so pleasant. I still can't believe we made it – 21 thousand words in 24 hours – but you guys are just amazing and this has been an absolute dream. I hope I'll see you around.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**October 2011.**_


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